The Forgiven Generation
by That One Eccedentesiast
Summary: This is not what Draco Malfoy thought would happen when he was made to meet a muggle student in lieu of Mrs. Weasley-the usual Hogwarts advocate. ABANDONED.
1. I

_**The Forgiven Generation**_

* * *

Draco Malfoy was the farthest thing from a good mood. He was a potion's master and ex-Death-eater! Not a Hogwart's advocate! _Especially _not to the mud-_muggleborn _populous!

"Bloody Weasley children! Dratted Potter brats!" The blond cursed beneath his breath as he gathered up the brochures the Headmistress had dumped on his desk this morning. Did this kid _really_need to see someone now? Couldn't it wait until Weasley nee Granger got back from her family emergency? Bloody Gryffindor children-sneaking out in the middle of the night to play a game of_Quidditch_! If that didn't spell bad luck the man didn't know what did!

Stopping mid-rage to brush a finger down the small portrait of his young son, Draco found himself relieved that his son was at his mother's this week. Being alone with Narcissa these days was nothing if not torture (the warmth had gone out of her eyes with the execution of her husband-his _father_). Sighing as he shoved the papers into a satchel, the potion's master gathered a handful of grit to floo himself to the Leakey Cauldron from where he would apparate to this child's address.

If he was lucky, this would be quick and the parents wouldn't need any convincing.

* * *

Walking up the cobble path to a rather pretty brown-brick home, Draco morphs his robe into a jacket and the suit he wears bellow into something a little more casual-slacks, a button-up and sweater-vest-tugging at the satchel, the blond man knocked on the door.

A minuter or so later, a disconcertingly familiar little boy opened the door.

Pouting, the little one said in a high-childish inflection "You aren't the kitty-lady!"

"Uh..." Draco murmured at a loss to what to do (kitty-lady, does he mean McGonagall? But he's supposed to be muggle...).

"Sebastian!" Someone from behind the child snapped.

That pout developed ten-fold as his little body shifted giving the blond a peak to the person who scolded the boy; a woman-a young one at that-coming up behind him, the woman frowned apologetically.

"Sorry about him," she muttered, "He has a very active-imagination."

Sending one last curious glance to the scowling child, Draco shook his head. "No, no problem," he told her, "...actually I'm here about, ah, your older son...?" Not actually certain she _could _be an eleven-year-old's mother.

The woman laughed. "If you're talking about Louis-I'm not his mother," she told him with a pleasant (if slightly irritated) smirk. "I'm technically his cousin-in-law."

"Oh," Draco replied eloquently as he pulled at his bag (why did the Headmistress think he could do this again? Oh right, Slytherin _charm_). "Well, about your cousin," he began awkwardly, "I'm the representative of Hogwarts who is here to te-" he stopped. Her pale face was unexpected and slightly worrisome. "Are you alright miss...?"

"We thought it was a prank," she whispered, a hand to her lips. "Seb's always talking about magic and we thought he was-" She grabbed his arm unexpectedly, pulling at him. "Come in! Come in!"

A bit alarmed, the blond does not resist as the young woman pulled him into the home and into a room off to the side that held several couches. "Wait here!" she ordered as she darted from the room. Looking about, Draco realized this was a family that came from some money (the antique furniture spoke to that) and as his eyes wandered about, they found that strangely familiar boy.

He smiled at him. "I know you," he told him quite happily.

A bit miffed and curiosity back double from what it was before, the man leans forward on his hands and inquired, "Do you now?"

Coming close enough so his little hand is on his knee, the child gives a very serious and resolute nod. "I do," he agreed.

"Who am I then?"

"Lou's before son," the child answered easily.

"Lou-" the potion's master started, but before he could say anymore the woman from before was back.

"Sebastian!" She snapped, the boy retreated and went to stand sulkily against his mother's hip. "Sorry about him," she sighed, "He's usually much better behaved.."

The blond waves her off with a smile. "Don't worry about it," he smiled. "I have a son that's a little older-he'll be twelve this year."

Her body seemed to relax a little and she went to the couch across from him. "Abel-Louis's father-is, erm, _indisposed _at the moment, but Louis should be down in just a moment."

Draco nodded. "That's just fine," and it is (it's not like he has anything better to do). A minute later, the potion's master caught movement from the corner of his eye; shifting, the man felt his heart constrict.

The child, a boy, all elbows and knees (like his own son), with colored plasters wrapped around his fingers and hair so blond it was almost white...he could-but that's _impossible_!

"Dad?"

Draco croaked, but just seconds later; he fell back unconscious. The shock of seeing this boy-_his father_-too much to handle.

"Sir!" Ellen shrieked, hopping up from the couch to attend to him.

"Who's he?" Louis asked, looking to his little cousin.

The boy smiled so very serenely-as if things were falling into place for him-"Oh him," he said, "That's your before son."

Face screwing up, the eleven-year-old questioned "My _what_?"

"You're son!" Sebastian snapped, irritation so very easily coming to his face.

Looking to aunt Ellen as she tried to revive the fainted-man and then to the little boy, Louis can only shake his head. Sebastian's always saying weird things, talking about people who don't exist and asking them if they remember things that certainly _didn't _happen; this, though, takes the cake of weirdness.

He hears the woman slap the man and that's what spurred the boy to take a seat. Things were only going to get more interesting from here on out.

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**So...incidentally I've replaced the prologue with this, until I work up the effort to re-write that, we're going to start the story from here! **

**Thanks to Simevra Lestrange for the review! I really appreciate it and am hoping to see at least three reviews by next chapter ;)**

**Thank you for reading everyone and please review!**


	2. II

_**The Forgiven Generation**_

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the slap does it (aunt Ellen's hand has a mean sting, father's told him so many times). The man's gray eyes flew open and his pale coloring grew so very red as he stared at the woman cradling his chin. "I'm-I'm-" he stuttered, "Look," he began pulling away from aunt Ellen. He pulled out a handful of what appeared to be brochures and shoved them at Louis's cousin-in-law and got up. "I'm sorry, please read those, I'll be back soon-I need to-" He's up on his feet now, stepping away from the fair-haired woman. "Need to get someone," he finished lamely and with an unreal pop, he was gone.

The eleven year old had no words to describe why, but he was sad to see the man leave so quickly.

"People can't do that," aunt Ellen whispered standing where the blond man had guided her.

Leaning forward on a hand, Louis can't help drawling "Well, tell him that."

She shot him a glare and bent down, picking up her son who held the brochures the woman had dropped only moments before. "Louis go pack your things, we're leaving." She ordered.

"What?" The boy demanded.

"Mummy look!" Sebastian squealed at the same time. "It's the cat-lady who was 'posed to come!"

Ellen absently kisses his forehead. "That's great love," her eyes far away as her hands went to her pocket.

"I'm not leaving," the blond told her as the smaller boy began to pull instantly at his mother's collar.

The fair-haired woman's face morphed into a scowl. "Of course you're coming!" She snapped, "We _all _have to leave-your father included-they know where we live!" She swatted away her child's hand. "Stop that Seb."

Louis watched his cousin's tantrum unfold. "No!" The dark-haired child shrilled, tiny hands lashing out. "Look! Look! LOOK!" and he's flailing so bad that aunt Ellen might have dropped him if she hadn't staggered back to the couch where she let the boy roll from her arms.

"Hush love," the woman tried to sooth, however, his young friend would have none of it. Knowing what must be done, the older boy approached the mother and son; ignoring the striking limbs to take loose hold of the bunched up brochure.

"May I see it?" He asked softly. The tiny arms and legs quit moving; but they thrum with tension-tension that could spill out of his small body and destroy something beside himself. His brown eyes on him, Louis moved his stare to the crinkled picture of what appeared to be a castle on the somewhat glossy paper. "What's that?" He questioned, finger pointing to the picture.

Hiccuping, Sebastian's gaze darted from him to the photo and back to him. "Hogwarts," he replied.

"That's a funny name," Louis smiled; hoping to bring the boy back to good humor.

The child gave a serious nod, though. "It is," he concurred. "It's a _wizard _name, though." His eyes take on that darkness they always seem to from time to time before he spoke again. "We had wizard names too."

Scooting so close that he can feel the heat of the six-year-old through his thin sweatshirt, Louis inquired. "Yeah? What were they?"

The dark-haired boy opened his mouth, the names so obviously on the tip of his tongue-but, they escape him even as he knows them. "I can't remember!" He cried.

Wrapping an arm around the small body, the blond moved on to the next step. "That's fine," he murmured. "You can tell me when you remember." And he will, he's heard more than one odd fragment after his tantrums. "Why don't we talk about the brochure instead?"

"You'll be going there," the boy said, handing the rumpled paper to him.

Opening the brochure and feeling that niggling sense of familiarity as his eyes skim the information and take in the images, Louis can only mutter, "I will, huh?"

"Yes, that's why Draco came," he explained.

Louis shared a look with aunt Ellen. "Draco? I don't remember him giving a name..."

"You should know it," Sebastian scoffed, "He's _your _son."

Aunt Ellen cleared her throat. "Seb, Louis is _eleven._"

The boy laughed and reached over patting her knee. "You're _twenty-three_." and with that, it seemed that conversation was over because the little boy was now pointing to the picture of a tentacle poking out of the lake the school had. "He's not dangerous, you know," he imparted.

The woman smiled and so did the older boy, it almost felt like one of the normal conversations of weirdness they had with Sebastian. "Oh? Why's that?" She asked and in that moment, it felt as if they'd recovered the normal they'd only known that morning.

* * *

Draco stalked up to the receptionist of the child's wing at St. Mungo. "What room is Rose Weasley in?" He demanded of the plump woman behind the desk.

Beady eyes narrowed even further. "Are you family?" The tone to her voice is doubtful and the man knows she knows who he is.

"I need to see her mother, it is an _emergency_!" He hissed.

She tilted her chin up, "What kind of emergency?" She questioned.

"_The kind that will lead me to killing someone if I don't TALK to her now!_" He roared.

The cow was quaking now, her eyes wide and Draco can feel several pairs of eyes on the back of his neck. No one trusts a Malfoy anymore (did they ever?).

"You should call down," one of them ordered, a wand to his back.

The blond could care less, none of them-they hadn't-haven't seen their father as a _living, _breathing _child_. "Get me Hermione Weasley," he gritted to the receptionist who's just scared enough to obey and just happy enough to leave. She left only to return a couple minutes later with the brunette behind her.

"What do you want Malfoy?" She demanded.

Draco knew they weren't close as colleagues (cordial at best), but he needed her for this. This was _her _expertise-muggles-and then on top of that...she was _smart. _"Look," he grit, "I need your help with these muggles..."

She frowned at him. "McGonagall _didn't_," she whispered sound so very dismayed.

"She did," he exhaled, "I don't even know what I did to upset her."

"What did you do? What did you tell them?" She questioned rapid-fire as she hurried to pull on the robe she had hanging off an arm.

The blond shook his head as he came near her. "Look," he grumbled, "It's not something I _did, _per-say..."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, just take me to them-I'll fix it," she replied.

A bit upset as he took her elbow for disapparation, he argued, "I didn't _do _anything! I just want your opinion on..."

"What?" She snapped.

"You'll see," the potion's master answered grimly and before another question could be asked; the pulling at their navels began.

* * *

**Yeah, I kind of deleted the prologue. Sorry about that, I'll fix it when I get the chance. Until then, enjoy the actual story! :)**

**Thanks to reviewers, Alaskanwoman25 and guest! I appreciate it guys:) I'm hoping to have five reviews by next chapter, if that's not too much trouble.**

**Thank you everyone for reading and pretty please review!**


	3. III

**_The Forgiven Generation_**

* * *

The man from before and a new person-a haggard looking brunette woman-appear just mere centimeters from where they sit on the couch perusing the papers the blond had left behind. In the twenty or so minutes they had, Louis had felt his hear steadily grow in speed from excitement. This place, it sounded absolutely _wicked, _and he wanted to go so very badly and the way Seb kept talking about it only reinforced the idea he could have the whole of Slytherin around his pinky finger with a few choice words.

The suddenness of the pair's appearance caused aunt Ellen to utter a very uncouth word as his younger cousin began to yowl his multitude of complaints;

"No!" He shouted, "This isn't-it's not-no! No! No!" His face was turning red and Louis knew that a tantrum was coming. So hunkering down, he prepared for things to start flying as the blond man and the woman stared at them bewildered; all the while his aunt began to chant soothing things at the little boy.

Soon enough, a few books flew off the bookshelf-one nearly lobbing the woman in the side of the head. She shrieked and the blond that Sebastian called Draco covered her with his bulk and took them to the floor to wait out the tantrum like an intelligent person should. Soon enough, his dark-haired cousin does tire himself out. His young face is covered in snot, spit and tears, but he's too exhausted to resist the tissues that aunt Ellen's using to clean him up. Seeing this, he reached down and put a hand on Draco.

"Seb's done now," he told them.

The man blushed and hurried off the none too pleased woman. "Sorry Weasley," the man grunted.

Weasley just huffed and shifted her gaze to him. She paled considerably. "Oh my..."

"Do you see why I needed you here!?" Draco demanded fiercely.

She tried to reach out and touch his face, Louis, however, avoided it and glared unhappily at her. Who did she think she was? His _mother_? This evidently didn't matter much because she didn't even appear to register his dodge and turned her head to tell the man;

"We need to tell McGonagall!"

"No!" The blond snapped, "He's _my-_" He stopped short, gaze falling on Louis.

Quietly, the boy stood up and came to Draco. Gazing up into the face that he felt should have had to look up to _him _(and isn't that strange?), the blond child demanded with all of the forcefulness he's seen of the heroes on the telly, the police men that sometimes come by to find out why father's raging at no one, the principle at school who's _always _insisting that they do something about Sebastian, "Who am I to you?"

Draco's mouth opened, but no words fell from his lips. He averted his gaze and whispered, "No one."

Swallowing thickly at the slight, Louis doesn't know what else to do but say; "I know who _you _are to me! You're my _son_!" And he felt utterly ridiculous saying it a moment later, yet it felt good too. Being able to claim something and feel proud about it (why does he feel proud?)

They gape, "How-"

Doing his best to blink back tears, the preteen uttered "Seb told me, he tells us things all of the time." They undoubtedly think he's mad-_Sebastian's _mad-but it's the right thing to say and he can feel it in the very marrow of his bones.

"Can we speak to Sebastian?" Weasley spoke up.

Louise glanced to his aunt who cradled her tiny child to her chest like a teddy. It wasn't up to him to decide, but he'd been in the role of adult enough times in his life to know his answer has just as much weight-maybe even more so-than Seb's mother or his father's. "You can try," he replied.

The woman came forward then and the boy eleven-year-old stepped aside to give her a better vantage point. Crouching in front of the lean woman and boy, she whispered to the dark-haired child "Hi."

He scoffed and rolled his stare away. "Teaching children is a waste of knowledge, Miss Granger;" he grunted.

It caused the hairs on the back of Louis's neck to stand, this-this didn't sound like Seb _at all_. Patient, she replied; "You never did have the fortitude for children," she remarked, "And it's Misses Weasley these days."

The little boy blinked. "No surprise there," he replied indifferently.

"Is that really Lucius?" She inquired, casting a side long-stare at Louis.

His small cousin nodded. "Yes," he agreed. "Just as Abel is his father Abraxas and Ellen is Eileen." Flickering his gaze to his aunt, Louis caught a glimpse of pain in her eyes before it vanished with a neutral appearance of pursed lips and blank eyes.

"How did this happen?" Misses Weasley pressed.

The boy, now sitting up and focused solely on the woman shrugged. "We've been give a second chance, I'd say."

"By who though?" She demanded.

"I don't know!" Sebastian snapped angrily back. "We've been given it and it's already being wasted!"

"What do you mean?" Aunt Ellen hissed, suddenly animated as she turned her son around, "What do you mean we've been give a second chance and it's being wasted? Why do you know these things!" And she'd begun to shake his cousin as if to punctuate her question, fearing for the younger child, Louise went to step in (take the slap that would most obviously come his way for interrupting and save his only friend); however a hand fell on his shoulder.

Looking up, he's met with the cool stare of a man who was once his son. "Let Weasley handle it," he told him.

Sebastian's lip wobbled, but Misses Weasley quickly ripped the child from his mother and cradled him close. "How can you do such a thing to your son?!" She shrieked at the woman as she held Severus close with something like fear. "How can you risk his life? His health?" And Louis knows in the very bottom of his old soul that the brunette is not only talking to this carnation of Seb's mother.

Aunt Ellen glared defiantly at her. "He is my son, I know what is best for him!"

"Is this what you mean?" The woman whispered, eyes locked with the dark-haired boy in her hands.

He dropped his stare-unable to meet hers. "In part," he agreed. "They are better-not much, but they are." Sebastian lifted his brown eyes to meet Lou's gray ones. "I've not been easy on them either-or Sebastian isn't."

"You and Sebastian aren't the same?" Hermione questioned worriedly.

The little boy, still gazing at Louis with inscrutable eyes replied "I don't know, sometimes-sometimes we are separate, like now, and other times we are mixed into one-then I do not know who we are."

Louis took himself out of Draco's limp grip and reached to take his cousins' tiny hand. "You're Seb," he told him firmly, "You're Seb now." And the fathomless of the younger's eyes seemed to fade as he became more transparent. He could be read once more.

"Lou," he whimpered.

Taking the child from Misses Weasley, the blond let the younger wrap himself around his larger frame and held him close. "You're Seb," he whispered, "Severus is dead and so is Lucius." He doesn't know how he can feel so certain about this, but what he does know as he sits down curled around the little body is that; "You have to let go-we _all _have to let go..."

They aren't the dead people-the father of Draco, Severus, mother of Severus or father of Lucius-they are Louis, Severus, Ellen and Abel and they have to accept that. If they don't they'll never have the redemption the so desperately want; every mistake will be repeated and no value will be gained from this second chance.

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**Mh, this was actually a really confusing chapter wasn't it? Well, let me know what you got out of it anyway.**

**To reviewers, Dancing-Souls and Summer Leigh Wind; thanks guys!**

**Please review, thank you for reading!**


	4. Attention!

**!Attention!**

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This fic is now abandoned. Sorry 'bout that guys, but I don't have the interest or drive to continue with this fic. I still thin it's an interesting idea and that's why I haven't deleted the fic altogether. If anyone wants to pick up _The Forgiven Generation _and give it a whirl...I wouldn't mind ;)


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